Hot Asset (21 Wall Street #1)(75)

I nod enthusiastically. “Yes. Absolutely. I mean, it’s a lot of busywork but so fascinating. Today they asked me to revisit this cold case, and . . . well, I can’t tell you about it, but the perp reminds me of you, and—”

He laughs. “The perp, huh? Maybe I should have brought two dozen roses.”

I roll my eyes and smile. “You know what I mean. Too charming for his own good, great with the ladies.”

“Hmm.” He reaches out and grabs my hand, pulling me in. “You know this perp may have gotten it wrong. Turns out being great with the ladies isn’t where it’s at.”

“No?”

“Nope. The smart ones zero in on one lady. Make her theirs.”

“I see,” I say, my heart pounding as I struggle to keep my voice playful. “However do they accomplish this? Bash her over the head with a stick and drag her back to the cave?”

“It’s a thought. But I was thinking something more like . . .”

He reaches into his breast pocket.

Oh God! Oh God, he wouldn’t. We are so not ready for that. I can’t marry a man I barely know.

He pulls out . . . an envelope.

I don’t know if I’m relieved or disappointed. Maybe a little of both.

He hands it to me.

I struggle to juggle the flowers, my purse, laptop bag, and envelope, so he takes my keys from my hand and relieves me of everything but the envelope.

I give him a curious look as I pull out . . . plane tickets. Lots of plane tickets.

The first one is a flight for next weekend—DC to New York.

The next is for the weekend after that—New York to DC.

I flip through the rest of them. There are three months’ worth of plane tickets, alternating between New York and DC.

Between his city and mine.

“Ian?”

He lifts his eyebrows. “What do you say? Do long-distance with me?”

“Ian . . .” It’s a sigh this time.

He reaches out and slides an arm around my back, the other cupping my neck, his thumb brushing along my jaw as though memorizing the shape. “I miss you, Lara. I miss you like crazy. I get you have to be here, and I have to be there. Though, for the record, I did contemplate the very impressive gesture of quitting my job and moving here. But I didn’t think you’d respect me for it.”

I shake my head. “You’re supposed to be rich.”

He laughs, and the sound makes my heart swell. “Damn straight. But I’m also supposed to be with you.”

Ian touches his mouth lightly to mine, and when he pulls back to look down at me, his eyes are warm. “You thought I was going to whip out a ring, didn’t you?”

I let out an embarrassed laugh. “Sort of.”

He kisses me again, smiling against my mouth. “I thought about that grand gesture, too, but figured I’d better court you first.”

I pull back. “Court me? Did you steal that from Kennedy’s vocabulary—Wait. You thought about it? You thought about giving me a ring?” I nearly shriek.

He gives a little shrug. “It crossed my mind. After I realized I loved you.”

My knees buckle, but he catches me.

“That was embarrassing for you,” he teases.

I roll my eyes. “Give me a break. The guy I love surprised me with red roses, plane tickets, and vague chatter about marriage.”

His eyes go bright. “The guy you love, huh?”

I tap the corner of the envelope to his chest. “Turns out I’m very impractical when it comes to you. You had me falling head over heels in love with you in just a few weeks.”

“Just imagine what I can do in a few months,” he says, wrapping both arms around me and lifting me off the ground.

I laugh and lower my mouth to his. “I can’t wait to find out.”





Epilogue

LARA

A Year-ish Later

“I’m late, I’m late. I’m so sorry I’m late,” I say, dropping into the chair across from Ian. “Tell me you ordered me a drink.”

As though on cue, a server appears with two glasses of champagne.

“Ooh, we’re fancy tonight,” I say, fluttering my eyelashes at the man who, after a year of dating, is still the best-looking thing I’ve ever seen.

“Yes, well, they were out of that terrible beer you loved so much at the dive bar near Quantico.”

“Yeaaaaah, guess that was a situational thing. Who knew beer could taste totally different when it doesn’t come after a long, grueling day of target practice?”

“God, I love it when you talk dirty to me,” he says, winking and clinking his glass to mine. “So. How was your day, Agent McKenzie?”

I beam, because two months into my new job, it still doesn’t get old.

“Didn’t get to cuff anyone, but there’s always tomorrow.” I smile into my glass.

He leans forward and lowers his voice. “You can cuff me tonight, if you want.”

“I think I’ll take you up on that,” I say with a mischievous grin. “How about you? Tell me about your day.”

“Oh, you know, the usual. Kennedy pretends not to notice Kate; she continues to torture him. Matt and Sabrina got in a fight, so they might be dead.”